


Things You Said Too Quietly

by WildLioness



Series: Bellamy and Clarke various ask meme [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, List Fic, Platonic Life Partners, bellarke as bros, or whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 23:00:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3787552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildLioness/pseuds/WildLioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a million ways to say I love you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things You Said Too Quietly

“Thank god you’re ok.” Into Bellamy’s blood stiffened hair on the crowded floor of JCH’s Accident and Emergency department, after the bombing of a mall where he’d had been purchasing Octavia’s birthday gift (the silver and pearl engraved necklace, still in it’s dented box in his pocket). 

“She made her choice, and you made yours.” To Clarke’s cried out forehead as she shuddered with sobs even in sleep, after the execution of her father for treason.

“Be my boyfriend for four hours.” At the wedding of one of Clarke’s ex-boyfriends, to Bellamy’s surprised lips during an impromptu kiss.

“Pretend to be pregnant, I can’t afford another ticket.” Bellamy’s plea, one hand on her flat stomach, the other grabbing his wallet. The cop walking to the window as he schooled his features into apologetic worry.

“I’m so sorry.” The top of Clarke’s head as the coffin shut on Finn’s waxen face.

“I missed the plane.” Over the phone, watching the fireball of flight TH256 hit the ground replay on the news.

“Kids heal really fast, he’ll be fine.” A hand on Octavia’s shoulder, Clarke holding the other, looking at his nephew, bruised from where the car had impacted.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Action movies, ice cream and semi-expensive scotch.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Sweaty, loud music and running for miles at dark o’clock in the morning.

“I know you secretly collect postcards.” Written on a post-it-note in a package full of antique and rare pieces of worldwide cardboard.

“I recorded that terrible decorating show you like.” Over beers and Chinese food on the anniversary of a death.

“Where are you? Stay there, I’m coming.” 2:30 in the morning on a workday.

“I cooked that gross thing you like.” A birthday, after the worst surprise party ever.

“Get a jumper before you go out.” On the way out the door in mid-Autumn.

“I’ll pick you up cause it’s raining.” A text message during a heavy summer storm.

“There’s like fifty brands. Which one is it?” With a frustrated sigh and a shopping trolley.

“You’re the dipstick that broke your wrist! Apple or Strawberry scented shampoo?” Over the sink in the laundry, stripped to swimmers and holding a hand towel.

“This is horrible music. We can listen to it first, then mine.” At the beginning of an eight hour cross-country road trip.

“Yes, I will hold your fringe as you throw up.” After the now forbidden fish from the dodgy takeaway place down the street. 

 

‘I love you’ is said a million, quiet ways, and each is just as important as the other.


End file.
